


if lies of the heart are always lies of omission

by victoriousscarf



Series: In These Times of Sorrow I Hold to Your Name [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:15:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: Hawke was known for making terrible decisions really, as Carver was fond of always reminding him. But Cullen Rutherford, Templar, was a particularlyterribleone and pretty counterproductive to flying under the radar.





	if lies of the heart are always lies of omission

**Author's Note:**

> Right so the fact I lied to myself I was going to write this story in order held out for way longer than I expected but let's be honest, it was always gonna be a lie. 
> 
> Basically an alternate 1920s where magic exists and the Templars exist as an underground order of basically witch hunters.

It wasn’t like Hawke wasn’t known for making terrible, no good, awful decisions, because he _was_.

This was just particularly high on the list of stupid things Hawke has done in his short life time as he walked into the bar where all the Templars hung out without any weapons.

If he survived this and if Carver ever confronted him, he would remind Carver that honestly no one knew who he was. He wasn’t wearing anything to indicate his magic, wasn’t carrying his staff even though he desperately missed his blade. Plus he was alone, so for all anyone knew he was just showing up at a bar without knowing anything about the magic hunters who frequented it. It wasn’t like it was an exclusive speak, he’d gotten the password easily enough from his contact who told him about the job who certainly _wasn’t_ a Templar. Since it wasn’t tied to the magical underworld in any way except the magic hating Templars, he wasn’t going to run into anyone who knew him or about his magic.

All in all he had actually thought this out.

Which would surely surprise all who knew him considering he was still walking into the den of magic hunters without a fucking weapon.

Sliding up to the bar he leaned his hip against it, smiling at the man sitting surly there. “So what’s good here?” Hawke asked, a little too loudly.

“That your business to find out,” the man muttered, turning away and Hawke glanced up at the bar, considering the bottles there. If the Templars drank here it must be a step above bathtub gin, but he didn’t like taking his chances on something that would turn him blind. Some of the labels looked legitimate, and plenty didn’t.

So he threw his luck to the wind and ordered a fruity cocktail, because if he was going to go blind, might as well be with something that tasted great on the way down. The barkeep gave him a narrow-eyed look, plopping the garishly colored drink in front of him and Hawke, disguise in hand, turned his back to the bar, scanning the room.

The girl in the corner with her posse of boys he discarded, but there was a group of men sitting in the back, looking at anyone who walked too close that he easily pegged as Templar. A woman off to the side with straight blonde hair and icy eyes also was, and by her sat an exhausted looking young man, his hair a bit of a mess even with the pomade in it and they were talking quietly. Well, she was talking, he was nodding and looking at the stained wood grain of the table.

Also Templars Hawke decided, eyes skipping over them, trying to find someone who was probably a Templar and also alone. He had just spotted a red haired man, lounging back in his seat and yet conspicuously alone and watchful when the blonde woman rose, saying something that Hawke could only describe as harsh before stalking out of the building, leaving the blond man who had been nodding alone.

Hawke beelined right for him, sliding into the seat next to him where Hawke could still see the door. “Good evening,” he said, leaning his elbow on the table and rising his drink to his mouth.

The man in question blinked at him, glancing around and then focusing back on Hawke. “Excuse me?”

“I said, it’s a good evening,” Hawke said, bright. “Isn’t it?”

The man blinked again before he shrugged and reached for the dark fedora on the table beside him. “It is what it is. If you’ll excuse me—” Hawke shot a hand out, covering the man’s that was on his hat, making the man tense and stare at him.

“I’d really like the company.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” the man said. “But I—”

“Actually, what I should be implying, and I see I went about it the wrong way now, is that I’d like to speak to a Templar,” Hawke said and the man sat abruptly like all his strings had been cut. He looked around quickly, fruitive, before focusing back on Hawke.

“Excuse me?”

“Templars? You know, hunt mages, generally congregate in certain areas,” Hawke said and the man was getting tenser by the second and Hawke clicked his jaw closed. “Fuck, I am terrible at this.”

“And why do you need a Templar?” Cullen asked, low.

“Because a rumor of a rumor told me some Templar recruits were missing and you were willing to pay anyone who could find them.”

The man narrowed his eyes slightly and they had some of the other Templar’s attention on them so Hawke pulled his hand obviously back to his side of the table, sipping his drink again. “You’re here about a job?”

“Yes,” Hawke agreed, casually leaning back like every single nerve wasn’t poised and ready to bolt at a second’s notice. He wondered if a fireball would distract them long enough for him to get to the door, or if he’d get hit with a smite before he’d gone twenty paces.

“And why, precisely, should we hire you?” the Templar asked, and he’d removed his hand from his hat now too, leaning back.

“I have recommendations from Athenril,” Hawke replied, knowing it wasn’t much at all, hoping that name meant anything here.

“The smuggler?” the Templar asked and that was one hurdle down. “Why should we trust a smuggler?”

“Who else is going to have the skills to find your kids?” Hawke asked and something twisted on the man’s face.

“They aren’t kids.”

“Raw recruits then,” Hawke corrected easily.

The Templar considered him. “And who would I be doing business with?”

Here was another hurdle that Hawke should have known better to avoid. He could lie about his name but that’d hardly do him any good if the Templars checked up with Athenril. “Garrett Hawke,” he said, with his most charming smile, holding his hand out and the Templar considered it a long moment before accepting it, shaking it, and that finally got the other Templar’s attention off them. “And who is the handsome mage hunter across from me?”

“Handso—Cullen,” the man said and cleared his throat. “Rutherford.”    

Hawke just grinned again. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rutherford.” The corner of Cullen’s mouth twitched, almost unhappy but he nodded. “So. Do I get the details about the recruits?”

Cullen cleared his throat again. “Thrask is who you should talk to about that,” Cullen said, and reached for his hat again, inclining his head toward the red-haired man by himself. “I have to go, but tell him I said it was alright.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rutherford,” Hawke practically purred and Cullen’s eyes widened just a second before he left, almost fleeing.

Carver was going to skin Hawke alive for flirting with a Templar but honestly, Hawke got out of that bar with no one the wiser so he figured things could have been much worse.

-0-

Hawke had run up and down the city, looking for any leads on money, any leads on the Deep Roads and how to reach them again now that the Blight had subsided so it wasn’t that he forgot about the recruits. He just had been distracted by the offer of quick money for finding a shipment out of a warehouse that turned out to be nothing but led him to a strange man with white hair and a temper.

He was standing out in the drizzle, hat shoved down to his ears and bartering with a street vendor over potatoes when he heard someone clear their throat beside him. He almost jumped out of his skin to find the Templar from the other night standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets and wearing a light grey fedora this time. “Hawke, wasn’t it?” the man asked and Hawke’s fingers twitched, waiting for that tell-tale moment when his magic was yanked away, a hand already sliding to the knife Carver insisted he keep for situations just like this.

“Mr. Rutherford,” he greeted. “Can I help you with something today?” The vendor swore at him in Italian and Hawke shot back with a German curse that had the man muttering as he started pulling his cart away. “As there goes my only option for dinner—”

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Cullen said and Hawke felt his jaw drop. “If you do something for me.”

“Alright,” Hawke said slowly, realizing this meant he hadn’t been found out as a mage and the Templars weren’t coming for him. At least, he thought that’s what it meant. “What is this task?”

It turned out to be the muscle to help the Templars get a Lyrium shipment through the last of customs and Hawke had been down to this particular dock often enough with Athenril that he didn’t even have to lift a hand to be intimidating.

While Cullen was finishing up the last of the negotiations, Hawke found himself standing in front of one of the crates, his hand hovering there for a second, hearing the song of the stone and wondering what the fuck he was thinking, helping Templars get more of the substance they used to hunt his kind.

“Mr. Hawke?” Cullen asked behind him and Hawke almost jumped again.

“Oh, please, drop the mister,” Hawke said, forcing a laugh. “It’s too much. Everyone just calls me Hawke.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah, everyone,” Hawke said.

“Even your friends?” Cullen asked. “Wouldn’t they call you by your Christian name?”

“Not if I ask them not to,” Hawke shot back instantly and Cullen paused before he nodded, clearly not understanding.

And then he took him out to dinner, just like he said he would.

Hawke decided that was a terrible idea, as he sat across from Cullen in a small Italian hole in the wall, the bright white and red checkerboard tablecloth between them. Cullen ordered when Hawke said he’d eat literally anything put in front of him.

“Are you from Germany?” Cullen asked and Hawke frowned at him after the waiter left.

“Excuse me?”

“You swore at the man in the market in German,” Cullen said and Hawke blinked.

“I can also curse you out in Russian and French,” he said easily, with a shrug.

“Is that a no?” Cullen asked.

“What exactly is happening here?” Hawke asked. “I helped you out with a job, and now you want to know where I’m from? You buy my dinner as if, I don’t know, you want us to be friends?”

Cullen arched a brow. “You seem desperate for money,” Cullen said and Hawke’s spine tensed, because part of the quest for money was to keep the Templars off his back. “I figured dinner wouldn’t go amiss in addition to your payment.”

“Payment?” Hawke asked, trying to play it off casual and Cullen slide a wallet across the table at him, Hawke blinking at it as he opened it and found far too many bills inside. “All I did was stare at someone.”

“We’d had that shipment caught in customs long enough to be in danger,” Cullen said with a shrug.

“Why are you doing this?” Hawke pressed again.

“Because we always need recruits,” Cullen said and Hawke’s jaw dropped.

“To the Templars?” he asked, almost wanting to laugh or to run but he ruthlessly strangled both those impulses.

“I checked in with Athenril,” Cullen said and Hawke made a mental reminder to get the smuggler something super nice for keeping his secret in the face of an actual Templar asking after him. Because if she had told him sometimes Hawke was too good, and that sometimes his fingers danced with electricity, Cullen would certainly not be asking him if he wanted to join the fucking Templar Order. “She spoke highly of you.” Cullen paused. “You already know about us, which means you know what we fight too.”

Hawke’s skin felt too tight. “Yes, I do,” he said, throat dry.

Cullen leaned forward, eyes blazing. “Then you know the dangers, why we fight. Mages aren’t people like you and I, and they must be contained, to protect the world.”

Hawke’s back was straight as he stared back at Cullen. He was frankly a little annoyed he still found the man so intensely attractive considering the words that just came out of his mouth. “I have other duties already,” Hawke said.

“I saw the way you reacted to the Lyrium,” Cullen said and Hawke’s breath caught, wondering if that could be misconstrued in any way. “You could do a lot of good with us.”

“You’d have to get me out of the contract with Varric Tethras,” Hawke said, and Cullen leaned back.

“Tehtras?” he asked, sounding disappointed. “I don’t think we could.”

“I’ll just have to finish it off then,” Hawke said lightly. “Maybe catch up with me again when it’s over.”

Cullen looked genuinely disappointed and Hawke tried to pretend it didn’t matter to him at all. “I’ll do that,” Cullen said and Hawke felt his stomach bottom out.

“You really wanted me on your side,” he said, almost a bit marveling.

“You do come highly recommended,” Cullen replied and Hawke leaned forward, too far into Cullen’s personal space but it wasn’t quite his fault the table was so small.

“Is that really it?” he asked, in his most flirtatious voice, playing with the fire Carver said he liked far too much, except Cullen flushed, his eyes too exposed as they flickered up to Hawke’s face. Hawke fell back into his seat, too surprised. “Oh shit,” he breathed and Cullen looked away. “You actually—”

“You’re letting things go to your head,” Cullen muttered and Hawke’s stomach bottomed out. It had been a long time since he fell into bed with someone as lovely as Cullen, even with his zealot’s hatred of who Hawke was. He would never come this close to Hawke again as soon as he knew. But Hawke was known for being _very stupid_ , so he leaned his elbows on the table again, catching Cullen’s eyes and grinning, Cullen catching his bottom lip with his teeth as he seemed to realize he might have been caught out already.

The tragic thing was how _little_ flirting it took to get Cullen pinning him against the wall of the alley, and Hawke was a strong man, but Cullen had several inches on him, and it felt far too nice to have someone pushing him against the hard stone. “Oh,” Hawke groaned, Cullen’s hands around his waist, underneath his coat and so hot through his shirt. “Yeah, I knew there was more to it than what you said.”

“I meant what I said,” Cullen said against his throat, and they were pressed together hard enough Hawke could feel his arousal. “I wished you—”

Hawke dragged his face around, kissing him instead of letting him say he should be a Templar again. A part of him was yelling that he should be guilty, tricking this man into his bed but the rest of Hawke just didn’t care quite enough. Instead he licked his way into Cullen’s mouth, swallowing his moan and sliding one of his hands down between them, cupping Cullen and making him hiss. “You don’t happen to live around here, do you?” Hawke asked, sweet, and was shocked when Cullen nodded, having hidden his face in Hawke’s shoulder.

They somehow got there, Hawke stumbling up the long and narrow flight of stairs behind Cullen, the journey somehow making the anticipation even _more_. “Nice place,” Hawke said and Cullen almost gave him a glare because the place was in fact exactly the same as every poor apartment this side of town, too small and too cold and with too little in it. “You’re not sharing it with four other people and a dog,” Hawke said and Cullen’s face smoothed out into something that almost was pity. “Family, and all that,” Hawke said.

“Even the dog?” Cullen asked.

“Especially the dog,” Hawke said and twined his fingers in the front of Cullen’s shirt, yanking him back in close, smearing their mouths together and Cullen melted against him like he hadn’t been touched in as long as Hawke hadn’t been.

The little part that said he should be guilty only got louder the longer he stayed in Cullen’s apartment.

When he finally left, dawn grey and stingy in the distance, it was almost overwhelming.

“I meant what I said,” Cullen said behind him, sleepy. Hawke turned around from where he’d been pulling his shoes back on, Cullen on his side watching him. “About after your contract is up.”

Hawke didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d never signed a damn contract with Varric because it was the only cover he had. Without it, he might say something as mind bogglingly stupid as the truth.

“We’ll have to see when the time comes,” Hawke said, forcing a smile and Cullen curled closer around his pillow, watching him.

“Another kiss before you go?” Cullen asked and Hawke obliged.

-0-

But Hawke’s luck was never good enough to last, which is why when they did finally track down some of the missing recruits, Cullen was there too. Except, because Hawke’s luck was what it was, he didn’t even realize that, until the demon lay dead at his feet, a shade that he had sent right back to the Fade and Cullen’s gasps could finally be heard in the silence.

Hawke whirled around but Cullen was already running and he didn’t have the heart to run after him, even with Carver yelling to demand who that was, Varric’s hand on Hawke’s arm and honestly Hawke always knew he was a danger to his friends, to his family, but he hated being proven right with someone he’d bedded.

-0-

Only, the Templars didn’t come after him.

It was a day, two, three, and Hawke felt ready to scream out in the middle of the street for them just to come after him if they dared.

On the fourth day Cullen found him, down by the docks, helping Fenris and Carver unload a ship because they were still scrounging around for money, Varric frowning at his accounting books every night and asking them if they were getting _any_ work. He was just in his shirtsleeves, pushed up to his elbows with no hat on his head when Carver shoved his shoulder, pointing to where Cullen stood, wearing a dark green fedora and watching them. Hawke hesitated a long moment before shoving his hands into his pockets and sauntering over, not checking that his knife was where it usually was because honestly it would be too obvious.

“Mr. Rutherford,” he greeted, casual.

“Hawke,” Cullen replied, voice tight.

“Can I help you with something?” Hawke asked, tilting his head in question and Cullen’s hands were clenched at his side. Hawke had barely gotten used to calling him Cullen to his face instead of Mr. Rutherford.

“You lied to me,” Cullen said.

“By omission only,” Hawke replied, and he hadn’t felt the stirrings of a smite coming yet so he remained with his shoulders loose. “I’ve noticed a distinct lack of hunting.”

“Here’s your payment,” Cullen said, tossing him another folded wallet.

“Was that it?” Hawke asked, and the heft of the wallet meant there was too much money in it again. “Pay me to get rid of your obligations and then turn the hunters lose?”

Cullen’s face twisted unhappily. “I haven’t told,” he said, looking away and Hawke froze. “The boy you saved, he hasn’t either.”

Hawke’s mouth worked uselessly before he cleared his throat. “And how long, exactly, will that last?”

“Until you do something stupid and another Templar finds out,” Cullen snapped and Hawke could only stare him, clutching the wallet in one hand. “I never want to see you again.”

“New York is a big place,” Hawke said, a bit useless still.

“Not big enough,” Cullen said, staring at him. “Try to avoid me, Mr. Hawke.”

“Cullen,” Hawke said, too much emotion leaking into his voice. “I’m sor—”

“Keep your apology,” Cullen snapped.

“I couldn’t have told you,” Hawke pointed out and Cullen looked away, his shoulder sagging. “You know I couldn’t have told you.”

“You need to be careful, if you’re going to survive,” was all Cullen said and then he turned and walked away, leaving Hawke holding the wallet and watching him wordlessly.

It wasn’t like Hawke hadn’t broken his heart before. He was just a little surprised how much this hurt. Cullen shouldn’t have been able to worm his way in quite so quickly. If Hawke didn’t know what he was he would have accused the other man of magic.

Instead he pocketed the wallet and swaggered back to his brother and Fenris, trying to slot this into the category of just one more mistake.

He’d made plenty of others.

He might as well have never met Cullen Rutherford, except for the two wads of cash he had to put into Varric’s fund. As Carver gave him a too knowing look, he forced a cocky grin onto his face.

“Trouble?” Carver asked, under his breath.

“No,” Hawke said, Carver giving him a disbelieving look as Hawke started whistling as he went back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't nearly the end of these two, simply the set up because I apparently am terrible and want to make everything around me terrible too.


End file.
